


Ink

by Nicky



Series: Lories Week 2015 [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, BONUS: ink, Depression, F/M, LoRies, Loke x Aries, Lories Week 2015, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:16:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicky/pseuds/Nicky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't the Lion anymore. He was just a miserable condemned to death, exiled from his land, punished with every single pleasure the Human World could offer him, least the one his heart so achingly desired. A fading star that could only hope for death. </p>
<p>Loke-centered during his three years in the Human World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally written for the Lories Week 2015, bonus day: Ink. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or any of its characters. They belong to Hiro Mashima.

Ink.

His existence had become as black as ink.

He wasn’t able to place the exact moment when his life had derailed uncontrollably until it got to this point. But as he laid on a cheap bed, with a woman on his side whose name he barely remembered, and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, he realized that at some point of the last months his life had become meaningless and it had turned into a grim, black existence.

An existence that wasn’t worth living.

He turned his head to the side, but the brunette was sound asleep after a session of exhausting pleasure. He returned his sight to the celling, his eyes completely hollow, and he wondered if there was any way of hurrying the process that meant his exile. He was going to die anyway. In the end, when there was no way of changing his destiny, fast and early sounded better than painful and drawn-out.

He sighed, rose from the bed, and headed to the window, taking the bottle of whiskey with him. His head hung low as he walked, a foreign stance for the Lion. His celestial mates would probably worry if they saw him in that neglected and miserable state. But his mates weren’t there, they would never see him again, they would never have to see the pathetic handful of star dust he had been reduced to. Tch. Who was he trying to deceive? He wasn’t the Lion anymore; he was just a sad leftover of what had once been the strongest spirit of the zodiac.

He took a glass and poured the remaining whiskey, as a cynical chuckle made its way through his lips. Yes, cynicism had been dyeing his thoughts with its ochre colour and dry taste lately. To him, life seemed ironic, and the schemes of destiny were tainted with stupidity. He drank a sip and allowed the alcohol to burn his throat. His own being was ironic, an immortal condemned to death.

He leaned his forearm against the window frame, rested his head against his hand, and his hollow eyes wandered over the illuminated city, that glowed in the middle of the night, through the polarised glass of the love hotel. On a whim, every shiny dot could be a star under his eyes, and if he managed to squeeze his imagination enough, he could draw constellations on that sea of lights, memories of a place he couldn’t go back to. Rage started to bubble inside his chest, it fizzled through his hand, almost breaking the glass he was holding, and it brought back some emotion to his eyes. He could see, as clear as if it was really there, the reflection of the damn king that had exiled him. He suddenly had the urgency to crash the drinking glass against the window, let the anger take over his body, destroy everything that prevented him to go back to his home, back to his friends, back to _her_.

But he breathed a deep sigh to regain his composure, and his eyes emptied again.

Under his gaze, nocturnal pedestrians were secretly doing what they couldn’t do under day light. Some blocks away he distinguished whores working, cars stopping and lifting, and a pimp collecting his fees. He still hadn’t stooped as low as to release his carnal desires with prostitutes, but he had always found interesting to observe how all the types of human beings timorously approached that world of taboos. Protected under the cloak of darkness, humans would dare to do what in other contexts they would never think of, too worried with the constant ‘what will they say’.

It was curious, the human nature. It was curious how they would give preference to the appearance before true essence. In that way, the apple could be completely rotten in the inside, but as long as the peel was shiny, they would still buy it.

He drank another sip of whiskey, with a smirk as bitter as the beverage that was flowing through his mouth. _He_ was a rotten fruit. His insides were rotting, a little bit deader each second that passed, a vestige of the greatness he had once been. And yet, his exterior remained untouched, young, shiny and attractive, a perfect red apple that any lover would want to buy. He wasn’t lacking loving partners, he could have as many as he wanted, for none could resist his seductive smile and his ardent green eyes, promisers of unique and unforgettable nights.

That’s right, he wasn’t lacking lovers, and yet he was never satisfied, he was never satisfied because he could never have what he truly wanted. And he would _never_ be able to have it. It was banned, prohibited to him, an unattainable dream that he couldn’t even manage to touch, no matter how much he stretched out his arm. If only he was allowed to have what he truly desired, just for one night, just for one moment, just for one precious second…

Loving, compassionate brown eyes, framed by fluffy pink hair and a warm smile invaded his mind, spread over every corner of his conscience until no place was left unconquered. Aries’ face smiled to him with so much love that what once was the spirit of the Lion had to close his eyes and grab the window sill in order not to be knocked down. If he concentrated enough, he could smell her scent of dew and wild flowers, feel her summery skin under his fingertips, taste her mouth between his lips.

He permitted himself to take pleasure in that fantasy during some fragile seconds that took him higher than any orgasm ever had, before opening his eyes and dissipating the precious dream.

No, he couldn’t allow the fantasy to root in his heart, for it would shatter it, tear him apart like sweet poison that tortures with a false illusion of happiness. Aries wasn’t there, he would never see her again, he would never smell her fragrance or taste her flavour, or feel the soft touch of her hand on his skin. He would never hear her light laugher, or see her determined eyes, or have to deal with a childish fit of stubbornness. He was an exiled, a damn soul, condemned to die slowly and miserably, suffering for not being able to say goodbye and having to live without the woman he loved.

Well, if this black-as-ink existence could be called life.

He heard the blankets stirring with uneasiness, and when he turned his head he saw that his temporary lover had sat on the bed, rubbing her eyes before seeking him with her sight. When their eyes met he sighed with indulgency, disgust and self-hatred. The woman was truly beautiful. Her eyes were so blue that they shone in the darkness, her skin was tanned and as soft as satin, her features where slim and balanced accentuated by cascades of black curls. Her curves where well placed; she boasted buxom breasts, wide hips and long legs. He recalled that she had lured the eyes of all the men and some women at the bar where he had met her. She had shown herself indifferent and unattainable before all the suitors that had approached her and her friends, but in the end she had surrendered before the charms of the unhuman seducer. Every woman did. He was fucking talented in the art of seduction. He could have any woman he desired. Except for the one he was truly in love with.

“Loke, sweetheart, is there something wrong?”

Loke. That was the name he had chosen to lose himself in the human world. Just another simple, everyday human being, condemned to die as such.

She looked at him with a mix of affection and lust in her eyes, trying to draw him to the bed. But those lascivious eyes lacked the innocence of the earthly orbs he adored. They promised him carnal pleasure, but were devoid of the emotional comfort the pathetic excuse of a Lion was so desperately looking for. He stared at the brunette-Catalina was her name, if his memory wasn’t failing him- and suddenly he had the urgency to scream. His body urged him to wreck the building to pieces, to spend the last shreds of his vital energy destroying everything around him. His insides were rotting. Yet, nothing surfaced. The peel was shining, the juicy rotten apple this woman had decided to buy. His lips pulled into his most charismatic smirk, and he answered her with soft, suggesting tone:

“I was just pouring myself a drink,” he said as he finished the whiskey, “Is there something I can offer you?” the tone he printed in those words made Catalina blush.

His insides were empty. He was rotting.

“I just want you to come back to the bed with me,” she whispered with a catlike smile, patting the place by her side.

Leo, Loke, whatever was his name right now, smiled with hunger in his eyes.

“That, I can fix.”

He leisurely strolled to the bed, as he watched the woman bit her lip in anticipation. For a moment, the gesture caused him repulsion, and self-disgust washed over him. What was he doing? Was he, the proud Lion, settling for releasing his lust with a woman he wasn’t even in love with? Then he reminded himself with bitterness that he wasn’t the Lion anymore, that he was just a miserable condemned to death, exiled from his land, punished with every single pleasure the Human World could offer him, least the one his heart achingly desired.

Resting one knee over the bed, he stroked her cheek and neck with his hand, while she interlaced her fingers on his hair, urging him to keep his ministrations going.

He was a sad dying star, scattered waste that had once been light. The intensity of the caresses increased, exciting, luring, catching them. Lips mixed with fingers and fingers mixed with tongues. Loke closed his eyes, trying to rise from his misery, because if he concentrated enough, he was able to imagine that the skin he was touching was as pale as snow, and that the mouth he was kissing was the same that giggled the laughter he adored.

The words left his mouth without thinking them, “Do you mind if I call you Aries?”

The sentence was uttered, and now it was too late to regret it-not that he would have been able to stop the words, anyway. Catalina lifted her gaze from the job she was doing with her tongue, and scowled at him, confused.

“What?”

For a small moment, and intact part of his conscience felt disgusted at the idea of comparing Aries with an ordinary, run-of-the-mill human woman. But he was an immortal condemned to death, whose shameful existence was standing on any carnal pleasures that the human world could offer him. A fading star that had fallen in an endless spiral of despair, and his hollow soul had finally hit the bottom. He was going to die, sooner or later, and his damned king had denied him of his last wish, the only thing he truly cared about. His existence was just a miserable stain of ink that would soon be wiped out from the gloominess of this world. Honestly, one more atrocity wasn’t going to make a difference in his predicament. If he could only allow himself this little indulgency, then maybe, _just maybe_ , his existence would be slightly less unhappy.

“Do you mind if I call you Aries while we have sex?” he asked, with his eyes as empty of any kind of feelings as his chest.

It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore.

Many different expressions crossed the woman’s features, confusion, indignation and rage among others. However, the lust that was moistening her inner thighs seemed to take over any prideful problems she could had have, because after some seconds she whispered:

“Do whatever you want.”

He looked unperturbed. His only answer was, “Good.”

He hadn’t got the patience to deal with complaints.

The night was slow and extremely erotic. He got lost in the game of sex and allowed himself to erase his misfortunes with burning, lustful pleasure, while screams and moans drowned in that cheap hotel room. He allowed his fingers imagine they were running across the skin he worshipped, and his tongue dreamt with the taste of the spring. When he finally reached his climax and white pleasure blinded his vision, the name of the woman he loved conquered his lips, and for a small moment the illusion of happiness almost seemed real. But then that moment was over, and reality destroyed the fantasy.

Shiny appearance with rotting insides. Poison as black as ink rusting bit by bit what was left of his heart.

Calmness and fatigue found her resting over his chest, happy now that she had been pleased, with the incident of the names completely forgotten. He was looking at the ceiling with limpid eyes, idly wondering if he should hint at getting ready to leave, since he was the one paying the hotel. A deeper part of himself was worried, for this was the first time that physical pleasure hadn’t been enough to silence his existential pain. He was still feeling hollow.

“You are a wizard, right? You know, there’s this awesome guild in the neighbouring city, it’s the strongest guild in the country.”

He heard the woman’s voice, and for a mere matter of respect he turned his face to look at her.

“Really?” he asked politely.

“Yeah, it’s full of amazing wizards. I’m sure they would accept you in a blink of an eye, they wouldn’t lose an opportunity like you are.”

Loke looked into her eyes, and they appeared so easy to read that he felt pity for her. A girl wishing for greatness, expecting him to go to the most powerful guild in the country, become a famous wizard and take her with him. Humans were boringly repetitive.

He sighed, thinking that some extra money wouldn’t hurt him, and that it would be easier to lose himself in the multitude of a bigger city.

“What’s the name of the guild?” he asked with a hint of life edging on his voice.

“Fairy Tail.”

The words were left hanging in the air, echoing in Loke’s ears.

Fairy Tail. Maybe the fairies would be able to return him a reason to live for.


End file.
